


can we get normal after this?

by impossiblyincredible



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Coming back wrong, Gen, Vague Suicidal Ideation, extremely background dreamyjaylen, sighs it just happens <3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28850394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblyincredible/pseuds/impossiblyincredible
Summary: They still look at Jaylen and see the person she used to be, someone they can reason with, and that beats any disgust they might have for her now. It doesn’t go both ways, though; Allie, Teddy, even Avila, all the way in Miami, they’re all so hardened by the game that they’re nearly unrecognizable. She hasn’t yet decided whether that’s a good thing or not.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	can we get normal after this?

**Author's Note:**

> hi! to no one's surprise i'm jaylenposting again
> 
> this one's set toward the end of season 7, in the game where miguel wheeler gets incinerated
> 
> hope you enjoy!

“Where is she,” Allison growls, stalking into the dugout. Her eyes land on Jaylen, and she wheels on her, trembling with rage. “Fuck you.  _ Fuck _ you.”

“All—”

“Not Malik. You don’t get to fucking  _ incinerate _ Malik. Pick someone else.”

Griffin and Mueller sit at the other end of the dugout, but they don’t intervene. It makes sense. Jaylen doesn’t blame them for not wanting to be on the receiving end of Allison’s bat, riddled with nails, maybe even for thinking she did it on purpose, but still, it’s hard not to feel that curl of betrayal in the pit of her stomach. It's stupid. It's not like she talks to them anyway.

“We don’t know if he’ll—”

Allison lets out a short, bitter laugh. “It’s a solar eclipse,  _ Jay_ _._ You wanna take that chance?”

“I didn’t fucking  _ choose _ Malik, though,” Jaylen snaps, and yeah, as she was making coffee in the morning she told herself that she’d stay calm, but Allison was always weirdly good at getting under her skin, getting her inner asshole to rise spectacularly to the occasion. Did wonders for their relationship, back in the day. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t even  _ hit _ Malik, instability just chained to him. You saw it happen.” 

At least that’s true. Who was it that said blaseball was a game of inches? 

“That doesn’t— that doesn’t  _ absolve _ you,” Allison says, her grip on the bat so tight her knuckles are white. “Someone had to drag Miguel Wheeler’s goddamn burnt body to the side of the field so it wouldn’t  _ interfere with  play _ _,_ you know that? It’s still there.”

Jaylen knows. It’s why she’s sitting in the back of the dugout in the first place.

“You’re killing these people, and I swear to God, if you incinerate Malik too I’ll come after you myself.”

“I can’t  _ control _ this.” Well, almost. 

“You had better fucking figure it out, because—” Allison stops herself, almost looks guilty for a second, and that’s when Jaylen gets it.

“Because _what,_ Abbott? Just say it,” she says, and now it’s her turn to bare her teeth in a grim smile. “Come on, not like you’ve held back before.”

“I’m starting to wonder why we brought you back in the first place,” Allison says. As she does, she almost looks more disgusted than angry, and somehow, that's what lets Jaylen let out a breath. The sentiment stays hanging in the air, festering between them, but this, at least, she knows how to deal with. It's all in the open now, and she's in familiar territory, can sink into her role easy as anything. 

"Well," Jaylen says, and even she can recognize that the curl of her sneer is something unnatural, learned over the course of the season. It might not make a difference to Allison, though. "Whose fault is that?"

Allison frowns deeply, but before she can spit something else out, or god forbid,  _ agree_, a booming voice announces that it’s the bottom of the eighth and the Garages are batting, startling them both. Jaylen glances out on the field, where someone stands at the pitcher’s mound, idly tossing a blaseball.

“Batter up, or whatever,” Jaylen says, leaning back on the bench. Allison throws her a murderous glare, but just like clockwork, she’s gone, out taking her turn at the plate. Jaylen lets out a frustrated sigh. She almost wishes that Allison had stayed. Give her another two minutes, and she probably could’ve goaded Allison into a proper fight—God knows she’s been itching for one of those for some time.

Griffin and Mueller are still sitting at the other end of the dugout, hastily making conversation when she glances at them, and she lets out a hard exhale. If they’re gonna keep fucking  _ staring _ at her, this isn’t gonna work. She doesn’t even know why she showed up. 

Once she leaves the dugout, pretending she’s about to go watch the game, it’s an easy enough thing to get out of the stadium with no one seeing her. The terrible anticipation on the field is good for one thing, as it turns out—with everyone’s attention focused on the wreck about to happen outside, no one notices the wreck slipping out the side entrance. 

God, she wishes Dreamy was here.

Jaylen doesn’t know whether or not she’d like Mexico City, but either way—either they’d both get to commiserate, or Dreamy would get to make fun of her for hating the heat this much, and Jaylen would get to see her laugh again. Win-win.

“Hey,” someone calls from behind her. “We shouldn’t leave the stadium during play.”

“I’m not playing,” Jaylen calls back, throwing her hands up and turning to face Teddy, standing on the other side of the road. “I don’t need to be here.”

“Jaylen—”

“Theodore,” she says, stretching the vowels out like toffee. Overkill, maybe, because his face shutters, but he’s the one that decided not to leave her alone, after all. “Look. We’re not gonna make it further than next week—”

He crosses his arms. “Don’t be a dick. You don’t know that.”

That startles a chuckle out of her. “I do, actually. You wanna ask Monstera how well he’s been pitching lately?”

A low fuckin’ blow, but Jaylen knows she’s right. Ron is… not doing well. Even she can tell, and she hasn’t spoken to him in weeks. It’s not like she needs to, though, to see the feedback burrowing under his skin, into his veins, into his pitches. Always into the pitches.

Teddy’s expression hardens. “Shut the hell up.”

Jaylen shrugs. “I mean, hey, best of luck to him, but come on. Our season’s ending next week, so. Don’t expect to see me back ‘til March.”

A moment’s pause. Teddy opens his mouth to say something, stops himself, lets out a humorless laugh. “You’re just gonna go, just like that? Can’t even face the rest of the team? Maybe something  _ is _ wrong.”

If she did come back wrong, Jaylen thinks, all fucked-up and nightmarish and evil, then maybe this proves it, but Teddy’s right. He was probably trying to start a fight, toss out the most hurtful thing he could think of, but joke’s on him—Jaylen’s not going to waste time yelling at him about it. 

She shrugs again. “Talk to Allie. Maybe you can figure out how to kill me. For real, this time.”

He wouldn’t do that—neither would Allison, despite the venom in her voice earlier. They still look at her and see the person she used to be, someone they can reason with, and that beats any disgust they might have for her now. It doesn’t go both ways, though; Allie, Teddy, even Avila, all the way in Miami, they’re all so hardened by the game that they’re nearly unrecognizable. She hasn’t yet decided whether that’s a good thing or not.

“This is just how it is,” Jaylen says, and even to her own ears, her voice sounds harsh. From inside the stadium she can hear the commentator announce Mueller stepping up to the plate. Teddy’s up next. “Play your fucking part.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at her from across the street, and the betrayal in his eyes makes something in her chest twinge. Jaylen turns, puts her hands in her pockets, and walks away. Not much else to do, is there?

**Author's Note:**

> ah , season 7 garages. fun times
> 
> thanks for reading! leave a comment if you liked, or i'm also on tumblr as @goodwinmorin <3


End file.
